


Glimpsed in the Light

by Tiny_Teddy_Bear



Series: Into The Light [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Children, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Humor, Love, Married Life, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3564539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiny_Teddy_Bear/pseuds/Tiny_Teddy_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glimpses of Draco and Luna’s life, written for ‘object prompts’. Latest: Pizza - Goat - Recipe. Reviewers are welcome to leave prompts – the more unusual, the better!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sock

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Glimpsed in the Light’ will be an ongoing series of mostly unrelated, short flash fictions for Draco and Luna, set at varying points in their relationship. Each piece will be written for a prompt, which will usually be an object.
> 
> This is related to my Draco/Luna stories 'Stained Glass' and 'Darkness Before Dawn'.
> 
> It will, obviously, be an exception to my usual rule of not posting anything that I haven’t completed.

 ‘Are _all_ your socks _black_ , Draco?’ Luna sounded as astonished as he had ever heard her.

Draco glanced up at his new wife in surprise, and then down at his own feet, on which were a perfectly ordinary pair of black socks. ‘Er – yes, I think so,’ he said cautiously. Perhaps she was going to tell him that there was some invisible toe-nipping creature that was especially fond of black socks. He braced himself for it.

‘All black…’ she said again, rooting through his sock drawer. ‘Every single one!’

His gaze slipped down to her legs. _She_ was wearing pale yellow socks up to her knees, with patterns of blue seashells around the tops of them.

She turned round then, dancing over to where he was lounging on the bed, and curled up next to him, slipping her arms around his waist. ‘You poor darling, only black socks,’ she said. ‘I’ll knit you some more colourful ones.’

But she glanced up at him with the glimmer of mischief through her eyelashes, and the corner of her mouth was going all curly and kissable, so that he couldn’t help catching in a sharp involuntary breath.

He pulled her closer and took her chin gently in his thumb and forefinger. ‘Oh – no – you – will – not, my lady. I refuse to wear socks with rainbows, or spots, or stripes, or – or Crumple Horned Snorkacks. Nor seashells,’ he added with another glance at her legs, which were now draped over his own. ‘In fact, I refuse to wear any socks but plain _black_. Or perhaps very dark green.’

And he kissed her, very long and hard, to stop her from giggling.


	2. Table

There had been a table at Malfoy Manor, ancient, carved from dark mahogany with legs twisting into ornately clawed animal feet. It had stretched from end to end of the great dining room, and seated hundreds of pure-blood witches and wizards over hundreds of years. It was a Malfoy heirloom, and prized as such.

And then the Dark Lord had come, had sat at the table’s head during dark twisted gatherings of Death Eater, had tortured and killed people at it, innocent people. They had pleaded for mercy over that dark table, but their entreaties were met only with cruel laughter.

Draco was glad, fiercely glad, when he stood with his parents, his wand drawn, and they incinerated that table together.

But _his_ table, his and Luna’s, was as different as a table could be. It was a small, cosy sort of table that fit exactly ten people if they squeezed tight: three up each of the longer sides and two at each end. The legs were flat and plain, and the whole thing had been painted white, by hand, so that one could see the brushstrokes, and a few hairs that had fallen out of the paintbrushes and been caught in the paint.

Luna had persuaded Draco that it would be fun to paint that table themselves, just the two of them. He’d had his doubts, but then she had smiled up at him, with such a look in her eyes that he couldn’t help but kiss her. He felt that he couldn’t really say no after that.

(It _had_ been fun, he admitted afterwards, though they ended up with more paint on themselves than the table.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review! If you would like to leave me a prompt, you’d be very welcome, and if it tickles my fancy, I will write a flash fic for it and dedicate it to you. :) I would prefer that prompts are objects/physical ‘things’.


	3. Lego

‘What _is_ this, Luna?’ Draco asked, looking down at his wife and two-year-old son, who were sitting on the floor. He bent down and picked up a small, brightly-coloured brick to inspect. It had three little round bumps on one side, and holes on the other.

‘Lego!’ said Scorpius gleefully. ‘Lego! Lego! Lego! Leg – ’

‘That’s right,’ said Luna, smiling at her small blonde son. She cupped his little pointed face in her hands and kissed him on the nose as he giggled. ‘Lego!’

She laughed up at Draco’s bemused face. ‘It’s a Muggle toy that Hermione showed me when we went shopping together in Muggle London, so I got it for Scorpius. It’s such fun! Look!’

She scooped up two more little bricks and attached them onto the one Draco was holding, making a little clicking sound. ‘You can make houses and buildings and anything else you want. And look at this!’ With a flourish, she held up what looked like a tiny doll in a brown hat.

Draco crouched down for a better look, intrigued. ‘A little man?’

‘Yes, isn’t he cute? The box says he’s called Johnny Thunder, and he’s sort of a Muggle explorer.’

Draco poked the little figure experimentally, but it wouldn’t move. Scorpius pulled himself up on tottery baby legs, and staggered to his father, grabbing him round the neck with a beaming smile. ‘Dad-dy! Man! Man!’

He reached for the little figure with starfish-splayed hands, and promptly stuffed it in his mouth.

‘It’s all right,’ said Luna, seeing Draco’s look, ‘They’ve got an Anti-Swallowing charm on them. I invented it specially!’

* * *

When Luna found Draco later that evening, head bent over the table, absorbed in putting together a Lego car, she just slid her arms around his neck and kissed his hair. ‘I told you it was fun…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review! If you would like to leave me a prompt, you’d be very welcome, and if it tickles my fancy, I will write a flash fic for it and dedicate it to you. :) I would prefer that prompts are objects/physical ‘things’.


	4. Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my ‘big-little’ brother, who provided the prompt. :)

The first one was Knut. He was a fat squashy Niffler made of some brown velvety stuff, and Scorpius was sleeping with him draped over his face. Knut wore a ragged red flower behind one ear, and at the moment he had a hole in one of his side-seams, with white fluffy stuffing poking out.

Draco pointed his wand at the hole, and whispered ‘Reparo!’ No point doing it while Scorpius was awake, going by the fit he had thrown when they had simply attempted to trim his hair with Luna’s wand.

Then there was Guppel, who was stuffed between Scorpius’ cheek and the pillow, his string arms tangled together. Guppel (Xenophilius Lovegood had named him after an obscure 18th century wizarding cryptozoologist) was a Gulping Plimpy, and, in Draco’s opinion, hideously ugly. But when he had complained to Luna about Guppel, she had snickered into the crook of Draco’s neck, and said that it was ‘sweet’.

The last one was clutched tightly to Scorpius’ chest with both his arms. The last one was – Bear.

Bear had never had any other name, when he had belonged to Draco. He was just Bear, and Draco had loved him fiercely, loved him to threadbare shabbiness. He’d slept with him every night. And when he had started at Hogwarts, he would have died if anyone had known that he cried sometimes, silently, at night, for both his mother and Bear.

Draco had told Luna, haltingly, one night, about crying at night in his first year, because she was the sort of person you could tell things like that to, humiliating secret things. She had held him very tight for a moment, and then gone so soft and cuddly against him that he laughed quietly into her hair and said that she was like a teddy bear herself.

And in the morning they had gone together and found Bear, more worn and shabby than ever, and Luna had gently tied a green ribbon around his neck, and they had given him to Scorpius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review! If you would like to leave me a prompt, you’d be very welcome, and if it tickles my fancy, I will write a flash fic for it and dedicate it to you. :) I would prefer that prompts are objects/physical ‘things’.


	5. Winter

‘Mummy! Mummy! No-flakes on your eye-lashes! No-flakes! No-flakes on your _hair!_ ’

Scorpius lunged down at his mother from his perch on his father’s shoulders, and Draco just managed to prevent him from falling. ‘Scorpius! Stop that right now.’

‘Mummy, no-flakes! Look!’

Luna laughed up at them both. ‘You have snow-flakes on yourself too, darling! And so does Daddy. It’s winter!’

‘Wing-ta! Wing-ta!’

‘ _Winter_ ,’ said Draco firmly.

For some reason, this seemed to make Luna laugh even more. ‘Isn’t ‘wing-ta’ the right way to say it, my lord?’ she teased, and reached up to cup his face in her red-mittened hands, brushing away snowflakes.

He bent forward and kissed her forehead. ‘No, it is not. It’s _winter_ ,’ he murmured against her skin, and a little shiver went through her that wasn’t from the cold.

‘Daddy! Daddy, _Dad-dy_ …’

It was absolutely no use, Draco thought, trying to steal a romantic moment with one’s wife when there were children around. He was going to arrange for his mother to babysit at the earliest opportunity. Or perhaps Xenophilius. Scorpius loved the Quibbler, and had, embarrassingly, been quoted in several of the paper’s articles. ( _Scorpius Malfoy, 2, told the Quibbler, ‘I wants to find Snorkack!’)_

Luna stepped back from Draco reluctantly, with a last caress to his chin and a rueful half-smile. ‘Come on then, sweetheart,’ she said, and reached up to take Scorpius from his shoulders. He wriggled and giggled and grabbed her tightly round the neck with fatly bundled arms, giving her soft baby kisses on her mouth.

‘Let’s fly you over the snow, shall we?’ she said, and set him down, taking hold of one of his hands. Draco took the other, and they crunched on through the snow gathering on the ground, swinging Scorpius between them as he shouted gleefully. Luna was laughing again, her eyes bright and her cheeks softly pink, and snowflakes were shimmering on her tilted emerald beret and her eyelashes and her loose hair.

He was _definitely_ going to arrange a babysitter. And then he was going to take Luna on another walk, with no distractions. But for now, Draco thought, it felt good, just walking with his wife and son through the crisp winter snow.


	6. Ink

_~~Abraxion Malfoy~~ _

_~~Lucius~~ _

_~~Lucian~~ _

_Lucan Malfoy?_

_Scorpius Malfoy?_

Draco let his hand fall, heavily. A blot of black ink fell from his dropped quill-tip and sank into the creamy parchment, spreading and staining as he watched it with eyes that blurred a little.

A name – for his child. His own child. He dropped his face tiredly into one pale hand, grinding at his eyes.

He didn’t know if he ought to be a father to a child.

He looked out blearily from between his fingers, and saw that the tips of the fingers of his other hand were smeared darkly with the ink. It was stained into the ridges of his skin and the crevices around his nails, as black and sleek on his skin as the Dark Mark had once been.

He shoved his sleeve up in a quick aggressive movement, rough enough to negate the slight trembling in his hand, baring the Mark to sight.

It was faded now, faded to a dull greyish-pink in the years since the Dark Lord had been gone. But was still there, still unmistakeable: the leering skull, the snake protruding from its jaws like a tongue, hideous, marking him for what he was, as the black ink marked the parchment. Draco Malfoy, Death Eater of the Dark Lord.

* * *

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring dully at the Mark on his forearm. But then there were gentle arms around him, and Luna’s lips on his forehead, butterfly-soft.

‘Draco,’ she murmured. ‘Draco.’ Her lips moved to the corner of his eye, and her hand touched his cheek. And then, as his arms moved to encircle her, gently, around her swollen stomach, she brought her hand down and stroked his forearm, right across the Mark. She nestled into his lap, her head beneath his chin, and stroked the marred skin, over and over again, her fingers smoothing away the pain inside him.

‘It will have faded completely by the time he goes to Hogwarts,’ she said softly. And that – was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review! If you would like to leave me a prompt, you’d be very welcome, and if it tickles my fancy, I will write a flash fic for it and dedicate it to you. :)


	7. Box/Comb

Draco glanced at his wife across the table. The flickering light from the candles danced across the curves of her face. Was now the right time?

As if she had heard his thoughts, she looked up, catching his eyes, and smiled softly. He reached out and laid his hand gently over hers.

‘Luna – ’ he started, and then broke off, because she was looking at him with big, grey, soft eyes and the whisper of a smile. She could be incredibly distracting sometimes. He ran his tongue over dry lips. ‘I have – something, a gift, for you.’

He pulled it quickly out of his pocket – a small rectangular gift box, glimmering silver and catching the little, golden, reflected flickers of the candles. As he laid it on the table in front of Luna, she shifted the hand that lay beneath his, turning it over and threading small warm white fingers through his.

‘Happy Birthday,’ he murmured, feeling ridiculously shy. ‘Your first – married birthday.’

She held his eyes for a moment, still with that little soft smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and squeezed his hand a little. Then she tugged the gauzy ribbon untied, and opened the box.

A little sharp shaft of pleasure pierced somewhere in his chest when he heard her little indrawn breath. ‘Oh! It’s… so beautiful.’

She gently lifted out his gift, and stood it on its four short curly legs: a dainty little jewellery box, curiously encrusted with blue stones, ranging from the pale eggshell of the morning sky to the aquamarine of shallow seas, the clear blue of deeper waters, and the deep inkiness of the evening shadows. A silver clasp formed the shape of two finned sea serpents, entwined, and Luna traced them with a light fingertip.

‘Open it,’ he said softly, and she tipped the clasp up and lifted the lid. Inside, deep shadow-blue silk nestled about his second gift – an ancient double-sided ivory comb, carved with twining vines and knots and flowers, undamaged, perfect. It was the same pale cornsilk colour as Luna’s hair.

He watched as she lifted it and held it gently in her hands. ‘Draco…’ she said, and turned it over, lifting it up to inspect the carving more closely. Her eyes were big and fascinated, and he could see the reflections of those bright candle-flames in them.

‘A Moon-Mouse,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘A Moon-Mouse… see, carved behind that big flower, with the extra-long whiskers. I didn’t know that anyone knew about them back when this was made…’ She ran her tongue over her lips, and carefully, slowly placed the comb back in its place.

Then she flung herself at his chest and hugged him hard, and raised her face urgently to his as he bent down over her. Their lips met, warm and sweet and blissful.

* * *

‘I think…’ murmured Luna into his neck, a long while later, ‘that I like your last gift the most, after all.’

And he was left to make of that what he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review! If you would like to leave me a prompt, you’d be very welcome, and if it tickles my fancy, I will write a flash fic for it and dedicate it to you. :) I would prefer that prompts are objects/physical ‘things’.


	8. Test

‘Luna, what’s wrong? Luna!’

‘Draco, I – I – ’ She clapped her hand over her mouth, her face white as the milk in the jug on their breakfast table. Then, as he shoved his chair back and made a sharp movement towards her, she twisted from her chair and ran for the bathroom.

He followed, to find her being desperately sick, clutching herself, and he grasped her shoulders to steady her as she retched. She was trembling all over, and he was feeling panicky. What was wrong with her? What was he supposed to do?

‘Tripsy!’ he barked, helplessly, and the little bright-eyed house-elf appeared with a crack.

She took in the situation in a blink. ‘Oh, Mistress Luna,’ she crooned. ‘Oh, poor Mistress… let Tripsy help…’

In a few seconds she had snapped her knobbly fingers and vanished the mess, then pulled a warm damp cloth from the air. Draco snatched it and turned Luna gently around.

She was shaking and sagging, tears running down her face, and she looked terrible, but that did not particularly occur to him. He just knew that she was sick, and in trouble, and needed help; and he loved her, so he gently wiped her face – damp forehead and wet eyes and pinched mouth – and held her tight in the crook of his arm.

Why on earth, he wondered distractedly, was Tripsy beaming like that?

‘Oh, Master Draco – oh, Mistress! Tripsy is so happy, so happy she could turn nose-around-heels. Tripsy does congratulate you, indeed she does…’

Draco looked slowly, very slowly down to meet Luna’s wide, astonished grey eyes. They both turned to look at Tripsy in the same instant.

‘What…’

‘You mean…’

‘Do the test, the test charm, Master! But Tripsy _knows_!’

‘The test charm…’ said Draco hazily. ‘ _Oh._ The _test. That_ test!’

He drew his wand. ‘ _Germinius Revelio_!’

A soft, opalescent mist drifted from the tip and over Luna, gathering around the region of her stomach. He counted silently, one-two-three-four-five, and the mist began to change colour, turning a soft new-leaf green.

It was – positive.

‘We’re – having a baby,’ Luna whispered, wonderingly, and her face seemed suddenly awash with brightness.

‘We are,’ Draco breathed. ‘A _baby_.’ He reached out his hands to clasp hers.

* * *

And Tripsy, out of sight, turned nose-around-heels all the way back to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review! If you would like to leave me a prompt, you’d be very welcome, and if it tickles my fancy, I will write a flash fic for it and dedicate it to you. :) I would prefer that prompts are objects/physical ‘things’.


	9. Watch

It arrived by owl, and he snuck it into an unused classroom to open it alone. A small box tied up with ribbon and accompanied by a note from his mother – a flat little note, wishing him a happy birthday. He swallowed hard to stopper the hysterical laugh-sob that bubbled up. _Happy_?

_You have come of age._ But hadn’t his true coming-of-age been months before, when the Mark had been burnt into his arm? When he had been given his task, chosen for it by the Dark Lord?

It was a watch, of course, predictably silver and ornate. The traditional coming-of-age gift of wizards; he had thought, once, of how proudly he would receive it, how this day would stand out. A tiny, shining green serpent slithered about the edge of the face, and he watched it for a while, slithering and writhing and sometimes making a sliding about-turn to circle in the opposite direction.

It was trapped, trapped in its everlasting circumnavigation of the face, bordered in, irrevocably, by engraved silver and magic. Trapped. Trapped. _Trapped._

He drew in a long harsh gulp of breath, and his hand clenched around the watch, shaking. And he threw it suddenly, furiously, at the stone wall.

He was making pathetic little soft panting sobs, and he dropped to his knees and crawled to where it had thudded to the floor, hoping inanely that it would be smashed and broken. But when he picked it up, it was whole and perfect, and the green shining snake still slithered around and around and around.

* * *

‘That snake isn’t you any more, Draco.’ Her little white finger traced the snake once around the face, and then she raised her face and looked up into his, a quiet steady look. And he bent down and kissed her, rather desperately, and the watch dropped onto the floor, because it didn’t really matter so much after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really made me stop and think. When I checked up, I found that Draco’s 17th birthday was only a few weeks before Headmaster Dumbledore’s death...  
> Please leave a review! If you would like to leave me a prompt, you’d be very welcome, and if it tickles my fancy, I will write a flash fic for it and dedicate it to you. :)


	10. Blanket

He could see her sitting there, knees drawn to her chest, moonlight touching her cheek and hair and downcast eyelashes. She was very still.

‘Luna,’ he said, and went, and dropped down next to her. ‘Here; I brought you a blanket.’ He wrapped it around her, and she gave a little sigh and wriggled round to curl into his side.

‘I was just thinking about them,’ she said softly. ‘The ones who died… it’s seventeen years now, the space between a newborn child, and a woman or a man.’

Draco rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the sweet familiar smell of her, and she placed her hand against his, aligning the fingers till they fit. She laughed suddenly, the sound soft and a little bittersweet.

‘Look at how far we’ve come since then,’ she said. ‘We got married, even though everyone said we were crazy – ’

‘They said _you_ were crazy,’ said Draco. ‘They said much worse things about me.’

Luna gave a little huff of laughter and leaned back against him. ‘We had children – we’ve made a family. I’m getting creasy sort of lines on my face.’

‘I have creasier ones,’ said Draco. ‘And, though it wrenches me to admit it, my hair is thinning.’

This time she laughed properly, and twisted round to face him. ‘It’s been wonderful,’ she said softly, and there was that look in her eyes that still gave him a spreading warmth inside his chest.

‘Thank you,’ they both said at the same time, and then smiled. And Luna reached up and laid her palm on his cheek, and they were quiet for a while.

Then she sighed, and snuggled closer to him again, and he held her tightly to him.

‘Remus Lupin,’ she murmured. ‘Professor Lupin… and Tonks. Teddy was such a tiny thing… Colin Creevey, he was so brave, and he was just a child. And Lavender, and Fred, and poor Professor Snape…’

Draco bowed his head silently over hers. A single tear was tracing a slow path down her cheek, and he brushed it softly away with his knuckle.

‘They have found a brighter day,’ Luna whispered. And they sat in quietness for a long time, holding each other and remembering those who had paid for their peace with their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, this went very differently to how I first imagined it, but I hope you like it anyway!  
> In honour of the 17-year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. 1998 – 2015.


	11. Goat

‘Luna, what exactly are you doing?’ Draco asks disapprovingly, looking down his long nose at her.

Luna blinks up at him happily. ‘Well – milking this nice little goat I found. Why?’ Her tone is questioning, as though milking a goat on the balcony – at four o’clock in the morning! – is a perfectly ordinary sort of thing to do.

Not to mention that the goat has a neatly feathered little wing on each of its legs.

Draco moans and sits down on a handy stool, rubbing the heels of his hands into his forehead. ‘Sometimes I think you do that on purpose,’ he grouses.

Luna twinkles at him. ‘What?’ she murmurs – too innocently.

‘You just did it again. That little ‘What?’ or ‘Why?’ as though whatever outrageous thing you’re doing is not at all outrageous. And as though you don’t know why I’m asking.’ He folds his arms and raises a stern eyebrow at her.

She giggles – actually giggles at him, on the balcony at four o’clock in the morning. The flying goat turns its head to look at her with big trustful eyes. ‘Hey,’ Luna says to it, softly, and smooths a hand over its neck.

‘I realise,’ says Draco, ‘that this is probably some rare creature that we learned about in school, but it’s four o’clock. What is he – it?’

Luna runs a finger across the creature’s back, tracing little circular shapes. ‘Look,’ she says. ‘See how the hair grows in rosettes, all over him? I think it’s what’s called a Gotelin. They’re very, very good luck if they come to your home!’

The little creature skips its legs together and does a little bounce into the air, butting a friendly head into Luna’s side. And then, with a bigger bounce, it’s on to the balcony rail. It gives one soft bleat before taking off with a leap into the night sky.

Luna waves until they can’t see it anymore, and Draco waves to be company for her. When their hands drop, she looks up with big smiling eyes and then flings her arms around him.

They nearly knock the pail of milk over, but Draco deftly steers them off course – he’s well in practice. Then he hugs her back tightly, rubbing his nose into her hair, breathing in that nice soft sleepy scent that’s Luna at night.

The little Gotelin’s visit might or might not bring them good luck. But for the moment, he has everything he needs, right here in his arms.


	12. Pizza

‘Pizza,’ says Draco cautiously, poking it with his fork.

‘I made it,’ Luna beams. ‘I’m very good at pizza. Do you like pizza?’

It’s all covered in little coloured things, bits of vegetable and meat and gooey pale yellow stuff – is it cheese? ‘Do you – eat this often?’ he ventures.

‘Oh, yes, Daddy and me love it! What about your family?’

‘Uh,’ says Draco. ‘I’ve never really tried ‘pizza’. We were more – veal and champignons, red wine, that sort of thing.’ He trails off at the end, flushing a little.

But Luna’s eyes are bright. ‘Oh, this is your first time to ever try pizza! I think that you’re going to really, really like it.’ She looks at him expectantly. ‘Go on, try!’

Draco looks down at the odd colourful wedge again, and takes a deep breath. It does smell rather good. And Luna’s eyes are so hopeful and waiting.

He cuts the tip of the triangle with his knife, and spears it with his fork. But the cheese is melted and stringy and makes long stretchy strands from the plate to the fork. He battles it fruitlessly with his knife before Luna says, ‘Just put it in your mouth; you can bite through the cheese.’

So he puts it in.

* * *

Melting-soft cheese – tender juicy lamb – hints of rosemary – tang of red onion. Crispy – softish – juicy – melting. It all mingles together and makes something so mind-meltingly delicious that he can only chew and swallow and look at Luna across the table with wide eyes of astonishment as he takes another bite – and another – and another.

* * *

The pizza is gone and Draco is happy. Luna is happy too, and everything is right with the world.

‘You like it, don’t you?’ she says gleefully. ‘I knew you would.’

Draco just smiles vaguely and rests his chin in his hand.

Mmm. Pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To come soon: a follow-up of sorts to ‘Pizza’, featuring Scorpius in his first term at Hogwarts!
> 
> If you would like to leave me a prompt, you’d be very welcome, and if it tickles my fancy, I will write a flash fic for it and dedicate it to you. :) I would prefer that prompts are objects/physical ‘things’, but if there’s something else that you really want, send it through anyway – if it interests me, I might do it!


	13. Recipe

It’s not very merry, at Malfoy Manor, the Christmas after the battle. Oh, there’s food aplenty, a groaning tableful fit to feed a whole dinner party of guests. Except there aren’t any guests, just Draco and his mother and father sitting stiffly and correctly in high-backed chairs, in a room with shadows that seem to cling to the corners.

Draco tries not to think too hard about Christmas last year.

Of course, the house-elves are disappointed at the lack of guests – they couldn’t resist cooking ten times the food that was needed. Mountains of succulent turkey slices, hot and dripping with flavourful juices – tangy cranberry and orange sauce by the pint – crispy batter puddings in high piles – it’s all there, and no-one to eat it.

His mother’s hardly eating, just pushing her food around with her fork. It hasn’t been a good day for her, and Draco thinks that the piles of uneaten food are only serving as a reminder of her loneliness. She looks white and miserable, and eventually she sets her plate aside.

‘I think – I think I have had enough,’ she says softly, not looking at them, and goes quickly out of the room with her hand to her face.

Draco’s a little surprised when his father stands and follows her. It’s not the sort of thing the father of his childhood would have done, but then Lucius Malfoy has been rather changed since the battle – a little softer, a little less distant, a little more affectionate.

And so Draco is left alone to finish his meal. It’s delicious, of course, but he thinks wistfully of the warmth and colour and cosiness of Luna’s home, so different from the high dark ceilings and echoing spaces of Malfoy Manor. He wishes he were there, but Xeno Lovegood had accepted an invitation to Arthur and Molly Weasley’s house.

Luna had said she was sorry, she would have liked to spend Christmas with Draco, and it gives him a warm feeling to think about it. She had wanted to be with _him_. Actually wanted to. She’d clasped her small red-mittened hands together and looked up at him with big, sympathetic eyes, as though she knew he’d be having a rather bleak Christmas on his own and wished she could be there for him.

Draco’s still getting used to it, the idea that someone has his back – but it’s a good feeling. Safe.

He decides to go for a walk. It’s snowy outside, and the air is clean and biting cold in his lungs. He tramps for a bit, Apparating here and there, and somehow ends up outside the Lovegoods’ house when afternoon is just beginning to slip into evening.

He knows they won’t be back yet, but there’s something comforting just in looking at the house. Such an unusual house, round and high like a castle tower, with oddly shaped windows in different places. _PICK YOUR OWN MISTLETOE,_ says the sign outside, and he smiles a little and leans on the rickety fence.

There’s a pop behind him, and then, ‘Merry Christmas, Draco,’ says someone.

He swings around, and it’s Luna, smiling sunnily, with Xeno behind her. He can’t hold back his smile, and he reaches out at the same time as Luna does, and squeezes her hands.

‘Merry Christmas,’ he says, a little shyly. ‘I was just – passing by.’

Luna’s eyes are warm. ‘We left early,’ she says. ‘I was going to come and see you, but you’re here instead. Will you come in? I’ve been trying a new recipe for gingerbread and I need someone unbiased to test it on.’

‘Unbiased?’ he asks, smiling crookedly – but he’s only too glad to come inside, into the warmth and colourful friendliness of Luna’s house. She makes him sit in the cosiest armchair and they munch on Luna’s gingerbread – which is very good indeed – in companionable silence. She’s made a big pitcher of what she calls ‘spiced hot chocolate’ too, and he likes it.

It’s a good Christmas, Draco thinks. Different, but a good sort of different. Luna’s holding her mug in both hands, like a child, to drink the dregs, and then she licks all around her mouth with the tip of her little pink tongue.

‘I wish it was – like this at home,’ he tells her suddenly, wistfully.

She looks at him for a moment, and then reaches for his hand, holding it firmly. It’s easy to tell Luna things, and she always understands. Draco feels a sudden irrational wave of happiness as he squeezes her fingers.

It is, after all, a merry Christmas.


	14. Pizza/Rocking Chair

The fire crackle-pops. ‘Floo call!’ says Luna, looking up. She’s sitting cross-legged in the big creaky rocking chair, wearing a rainbow-hued patchwork dress and threading equally bright beads onto a string.

Draco untangles his legs from the end of the leather couch and sits up, putting down his book. ‘Hogwarts,’ he observes. ‘Blue popping sparks.’

‘I hope Scorpius is all right,’ says Luna. ‘Oh, here comes someone.’

It’s the head of Neville Longbottom that has appeared in the flames, looking slightly frazzled. ‘Hi Luna… Draco,’ he says, regarding Draco, as always, with a wary eye. ‘It’s Scorpius – he’s a little upset, and nothing would do but that he spoke to you himself.’

‘Thanks, Neville,’ says Luna, and he disappears. There’s a few seconds of crackling and blue sparks, and then Scorpius’ head appears. His face is white and – Draco clenches his hands – there are traces of tears on his cheeks.

‘Oh, darling,’ says Luna softly. ‘What happened?’

‘How _could_ you?’ says Scorpius, low and fierce.

‘How could we what?’ Luna asks. She climbs out of the rocking chair and comes to the fire, plumping down on her knees before it. Draco sinks onto one knee beside her.

A tear trickles from Scorpius’ face into the fire with a little sizzling sound. He sniffs, and Draco reaches forward to touch his cheek. ‘Tell us,’ he coaxes.

Scorpius sniffles again, and says desolately, ‘Pizza.’

It is to Draco’s credit, and symptomatic of his long association with Luna, that no surprise shows on his face. He was not sure what he had suspected, but it was not pizza.

‘Pizza?’ probes Luna gently.

‘We eat it the WRONG WAY. And everyone laughed… and I tried to hex James Potter but it didn’t work, only some sparks came out, and everyone laughed more and I hate them all!’

‘Why was James Potter there?’ Luna wonders. ‘Isn’t he a Gryffindor?’

‘Yes, but he _always_ comes past the Ravenclaw table and he calls me Malfoy and I hate it!’ More tears trickle down Scorpius’ face and into the fire.

‘Typical,’ Draco mutters.

‘Oh, darling,’ Luna murmurs. Scorpius gulps.

‘But how do we eat pizza the ‘wrong way’?’ asks Draco, puzzled.

‘Crust first!’ Scorpius wails. ‘ _No-one_ does that! They all _hold_ the crust and eat the _point_ first, the _proper_ way!’

Luna strokes his cheek softly. ‘I see,’ she says. ‘That must have been hard.’

‘It was,’ says Scorpius desolately.

‘But what about Molly? You wrote and said she was nice.’

Scorpius’ face brightens a very little bit, a ray of sunshine through rain. ‘Molly didn’t laugh,’ he says. ‘And she told James to go and drown himself in the Great Lake. She’s here now, waiting for me.’

‘That’s good,’ says Luna, and smiles at him warmly. ‘But you don’t have to eat your pizza the same way as everyone does, just because they do.’

‘Mum,’ says Scorpius, ‘You don’t _understand!_ The crust is supposed to be like a _handle_ , because it isn’t so gooey! Why do we always have to be so weird and different?’

From the corner of his eye, Draco sees a tiny, hurt expression touch Luna’s face. But it passes over and is gone in an instant. Then she leans forward, bending right down low, and kisses her son’s cheek, touching his face softly with her knuckle.

Her eyes are closed, and as Draco saves one of her long tresses of hair from incineration, he feels her take a long slow breath. The boy’s eyes close, too, and he breathes with her, quietly, past a little hitch in his throat.

‘Love you, Mum,’ he says suddenly, a little chokily. ‘And Dad. And, and thanks.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started off as quite a comical piece, but it got surprisingly serious near the end. Luna does believe quite strongly that open-mindedness and difference and oddity are good things; but on the other hand she recognises Scorpius’ embarrassment and distress. That’s why she doesn’t answer his last question – it’s something she actually can’t answer for him.  
> This is also why it ends on such an ambiguous sort of note. Scorpius is a preteen wizard who has recently started at Hogwarts; his life is very complicated and overwhelming at the moment, and he has a whole bunch of confusing feelings churning around inside him. However, he is sure of one thing, and that is that his parents care about him very much.  
> A note on the Floo: I’m going by Amos Diggory Floo-calling the Weasley’s home in the GoF, where it says that his head was sticking out of the fire ‘like a large bearded egg’, with flames licking around his ears. Based on that, I’m taking a long shot and assuming that, with a small fire, it would be possible to touch someone’s face, or kiss their cheek, for example – though perhaps at some risk of singeing yourself!  
> And if you liked this, please consider leaving me kudos, or even a comment - it would really brighten my day! Prompts are very welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review!
> 
> If you would like to leave me a prompt, you’d be very welcome, and if it tickles my fancy, I will write a flash fic for it and dedicate it to you. :) I would prefer that prompts are objects/physical ‘things’.


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